


The Eden Lost Zone

by TheConceptionist



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheConceptionist/pseuds/TheConceptionist
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, the Eden Lost (EL) Zone has been overtaken by braindead monsters set on wiping out anything in their path. With the EL Zone being the only source of fresh resources, people and guilds probe deeper and deeper within to help themselves survive. What secrets do the EL Zone hold, whether they be for itself or this world's past?





	1. They Beat Up A Monster

“So, what’s the haul this time?”

 

A sack landed on a small table, letting out the sound of large amounts of crinkling plastic. The person who was previously holding the sack turned to answer.

 

“Sealed chips, mostly. Some of those old candies, multiple types of beverages… We should be covered for a few days, at the very least. It’s a miracle all of this stuff survived.” They nodded to their friend, gesturing for them to rummage through the bag. The friend nodded, pushing past the person, making sure not to mess with the large dress that the friend was wearing.

 

The friend proceeded to dig through the bag, pulling out things like unopened Lay’s, a few (extremely dirty and most likely spoiled) cans of Mountain Dew, and even a singular bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade (once again, most likely spoiled). Eventually, the friend yanked out a family bag of Doritos, still sealed perfectly. “Holy merry mother of--! You actually managed to find a large bag?!” The friend’s giddy expression spread across their face.

 

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy. Had to go a few kilometers deep into the EL zone to find that stuff. I was lucky nothing much came after me.” The person in the dress chucked. “Blood and white don’t exactly mix, y’know.”

 

“Yes, you’ve made me quite aware.” The friend paused, then turned to look at the other. “Actually, your dress is mostly some shade of dark blue, so it isn’t _as_ bad as pure white.”

 

“The blouse isn’t blue, though.”

 

“Fair enough. Not like I’m one to complain; my dress eats blood stains like breakfast.”

 

“And Dorito stains?”

 

“Those stain orange. Now _shut_.”

 

The blue-dressed person sarcastically threw up their hands in defeat. “Alright, alright! I’ll stop.” They shuffled over and next to the friend, staring at the large bag. “We have to finish our other resources first, though. I don’t know if we have any bag clips left. Can’t risk these going bad.”

 

The red-dressed person looked disappointed, slowly putting all of the rummaged items back into the sack. After a few moments, they looked over to the blue-dressed person. “Actually, do you want to check our stock of bag cli--”

 

Their speaking was cut off by a large **_thudding noise_ ** nearby. The person in the blue dress held up their finger to signify “one moment, please”. They went over to the entrance and peeked outside for a moment, before jerking their head back in. “Rook, there’s an orc. A big one at that.”

 

Rook sighed. “What did we have, _one_ day to ourselves this week? Pieris, grab your weapon and I’ll meet you out there.”

 

Pieris nodded, rushing over to a corner of their residence, digging through belongings before pulling out a (sheathed) katana. They rushed back to the entrance and quickly went outside. Rook, meanwhile, took a few moments to keep staring at the sack, before finally snapping to their senses and rummaging through the same pile of belongings, pulling out an (unsheathed) schiavona.

 

*******

 

Rook pushed their way through the front flaps of the two’s shared tent, quickly moving to Pieris’s side. Before them stood a rather large orc, around five meters tall. Pieris had already drawn their katana, the sheath in the dirt near the tent.

 

“This is a new record, isn’t it?” Pieris took in the spectacle of the beast’s size.

 

Rook raised their sword into a ready position. “Yeah, the last one was around four meters, but at least that one didn’t have much mass; look at this behemoth!” The behemoth in question looked like a bodybuilder if orcs could bodybuild, having a muscular figure with tusks that almost reached its nose in height.

 

“Well, doesn’t that make our life _that_ much easier,” Pieris grumbled, also getting into a ready position. “Not only can it whoop us to the dark depths of Hell and back; all of that muscle will make it hard to slice through, lest it isn’t all soft.”

 

“Well, then pray that it’s soft and get slicing!” On finishing their remark, Rook made a mad dash for the monster, making sure to keep the grip on their sword tight.

 

Pieris wanted to get the last word in, but just sighed and followed suit. They made a run for the orc, keeping a low position as Rook went for the torso.

 

The orc opened with a broad swing of its arm, which Rook swiftly dodged; they countered by flinging themself at the monster and slicing it across the arm, leaving a small gash. Pieris followed through, dashing at the orc from behind and making a swift slash at its calves. The rear attack left more wounds, orc blood beginning to spill from them. The orc shouted in a mix of pain and rage, flailing its arms in all directions.

 

Pieris and Rook quickly hopped away from the monster and back to each others’ sides, watching the behemoth flail wildly as the life drained through the holes in its body.

 

“Well, that last bit was telegraphed beyond belief,” Pieris remarked. “Doubt he’s done for; should we go back in?”

 

Rook shook their head. “Not yet. Let it tire out from the flailing first, unless you want a fist the size of a small table hitting you from any which way.”

 

“...Fair point.”

 

After a good thirty seconds or so, the orc did indeed stop flailing, taking a moment to rest. At that moment, the hunters flung themselves back at the orc. Pieris aimed at the monster’s uninjured arm, while Rook quite literally went for the throat. The orc had no time to retaliate before there was a katana in its arm and a gash in its throat. Both hunters hopped back again, Pieris making sure to twist their blade to inflict extra pain before retrieving it.

 

Rook and Pieris landed back beside each other a few meters away from the orc, Pieris muttering “stab and twist” in a sing-song tone. The orc didn’t last much longer, blood welling up from all of the holes and gashes in its body. The beast choked on its blood before toppling over with a **_SLAM_** , unconscious, and soon to be dead of either drowning or blood loss.

 

Waiting a couple of moments to make sure that the orc was fully unconscious, Rook and Pieris finally got to work. They zipped back into the tent, leaving their weapons inside and returning with a bunch of tools to harvest valuable parts of the orc to sell; parts such as the orc’s skin or tusks. Both of the hunters looked giddy as they worked; Pieris sawed away at the tusks while Rook attempted to skin the orc.

 

“Holy gods,” Rook idly remarked, “this one ought to be worth a lot! This skin is rather thick, I’m surprised we consistently cut it!”

 

“And to think we were worried about muscle!” Pieris vigilantly worked away at one of the tusks with a large bone saw.

 

“ _You_ were worried about muscle.”

 

“Yes, for a valid reason.”

 

“...Even though you can easily cut most consistencies of muscle with a sword anyway, given enough effort?”

 

“Shut. Keep working on the skin.”

 

Work on the skin they did, until nightfall. By then, most of the skin had been removed from the orc; the tusks had been fully removed and sat off to the side, Pieris measuring them in all forms with a wooden ruler and wooden meterstick.

 

“Rook, I think this might be one of our better loots,” Pieris remarked, “not only are these things huge, but they’re basically pure bone!”

 

Rook stopped skinning the orc to look at Pieris, their expression apathetic but their eyes glimmering. “Magnificent. Do you have the records of the Guild’s greatest tusk measurements?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I? They’ve been with me the whole time I’ve been measuring these things.” Pieris picked up a worn-down binder labeled “Guild Records” and waved it around in the air. “We’re not beating them in many ways, but these tusks are much wider than the ones on record; about 15 centimeters wider. Odds are we have them beat in bone density as well.”

 

“Alright. One or two broken records is enough for me; let me finish skinning this and we can go drop them by the Guild and shove it in their faces.”

 

“Are you sure? Leaving our stuff alone at night seems like a bad idea.”

 

Rook paused to think for a moment. “Mmm… You’re right. We can wait until tomorrow. Go ahead and crate up the tusks.”

 

“On it!” Pieris set down the binder and began lugging the tusks behind the large tent they called home. Rook watched for a moment, before returning to skinning the orc.

 

After another hour, the orc was completely skinned. Rook brought the harvest behind the tent, putting it in a large wooden crate along with the tusks, sealing the crate when they finished. They rounded back to the front of the tent, trudging inside. After a short chat with Pieris about the hunt and their night shifts, Pieris laid down in a sleeping bag, Rook standing guard outside of the tent.

 

_Tomorrow_ , Pieris thought, _will be the day we finally one-up the Guild. I can’t wait to see that smug look wiped off of the Guildmaster’s face…_

 

And, with those final thoughts, Pieris drifted off to sleep, awaiting the day to come.


	2. Interlude I - The Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieris goes digging through Rook's belongings in the middle of the night and finds a small photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This interlude was written for a friend that was feeling kinda down. I don't like down-ness, so I whipped this up to cheer them up. According to them, it brought tears of joy. That made me happy.

The moon rode high in the sky. Rook stared off into the distance, tired but aware and watching for any possible raiders that could attack their tent. The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional soft breeze through the area, and distant howls of monsters in the EL Zone. As they stared into the distance, they heard a distinct sound; the sound of a wooden crate slowly creaking open. Rook quickly turned around, grabbing her schiavona and entering the tent in a battle stance.

 

“Show yourself, dirty bandi-- oh.” The noise had, in fact, come from Pieris, who had woken up in the middle of the night and was rummaging through one of the storage crates within the tent. They were leaning over the edge of the crate, digging deep into it, eventually pulling something out and turning around.

 

“Rook, what exactly is this?” The object Pieris was questioning was a damaged egg carton; various small holes and burn marks lined its cardboard surface, although not in a completely unusable state.

 

Rook sat her blade up against the crate, then taking the carton out of Pieris’s hands. “I had to ask Chaton the same thing. It’s supposed to hold eggs made by small birds. Not exactly of much use now for us, sans storing small objects.” They opened the egg carton, its only contents being a single small photo of a person.

 

Pieris took the photo and inspected the person that it depicted. It was a woman with tan skin and bright blue hair. In the photo, she is smiling toward the camera, with a small thumbs-up in the corner from another person off-camera. Pieris handed off the photo to Rook, puzzled. “Do you know this person.”

 

Rook shrugged. “I didn’t, but I know that my old, old, old relatives’ friends from years before the fall did. A distant sibling’s friend, maybe. The picture was in a hand-me-down journal I got from my parents, that they got from their parents, and so on. The thumb in the picture is probably whoever knew them.” They flipped the photo around to look at the back. There was writing in purple marker, reading “You’re great,” with the name smudged out.

 

Pieris looked at the writing, then back at Rook. “Well, then whoever it was thought they were great. How do you think they’re doing now?”

 

Rook raised an eyebrow at the idiotic question. “I would think that they’re  _ dead _ by now, numbskull.”

 

“Not like that. I meant like, in the afterlife, if there is one. Do you think she’s happy?”

 

Rook mulled the question over, flipping the photo to look back at the woman, then shrugged. “I would hope so. Being sad for eternity would be painful. If I had to bet, whoever took this photo is keeping her company, along with everybody else that knew her. She’ll be fine.” They gave a reassuring smile to Pieris, placing the photo back in the egg carton and putting the carton back in the crate. Rook then grabbed her blade again and walked to the entrance of the tent, pausing for a moment. “Go back to sleep, Pieris. We still have to go to the Guild in the morning.”

 

Pieris nodded. “Yeah, I know. Good night… again.” They slipped back into their tattered sleeping bag, and Rook stepped back outside to stand guard once more. Tomorrow would be a long day.


End file.
